


24 Hours

by EclecticInkling



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Bagel AU, M/M, Minor Angst, birthday fic, existential bagel crisis, i'm serious about this they are legitimately bagels, the bagel au that only yuki asked for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-09
Updated: 2016-09-09
Packaged: 2018-08-14 02:46:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7995742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EclecticInkling/pseuds/EclecticInkling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He is Hajime. A bagel. Plain, with a lifespan of twenty-four hours, at the most. And he’s just happy to be alive at all.</p>
<p>(bagel au. Written for my friend, Yuki!)<br/>(now available in Vietnamese! link added in the fic)</p>
            </blockquote>





	24 Hours

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JinxGiggly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JinxGiggly/gifts).



> For my good friend, Yuki!! Happy birthday, dearest! Thank you for your friendship and support and for all the happiness you have brought to me <3 (Also, I am sorry for this)
> 
> Translations:  
> \- [ Vietnamese](https://www.wattpad.com/433971937-translated-fanfiction-iwaoi-24-hours-24-hours): translated by Takana!

**6 am**

 

He comes into awareness like a light turns on— with everything that was once dark and unknowable in his existence suddenly illuminated by his mind.

He’s in a cafe, he knows. Currently, he sits atop the counter in a plastic bag with a dozen others just like him, and from this point he can see the tables and chairs scattered around the room. There’s a giant walking amongst them. A human. Wandering and wiping down tables and counters, and generally getting the store ready for the day. The human male wears a name tag on his green apron which reads ‘Hajime.’ He likes that name. Decides to claim it for his own. Adds it to the small list of things he knows about himself.

He is Hajime. A bagel. Plain, with a lifespan of twenty-four hours, at the most. And he’s just happy to be alive at all.

 

* * *

 

  
**9 am**

 

Three hours after opening and the morning rush still hasn’t abated, though the employee whose name he’s taken has long since disappeared. To the back of the store or back home, he doesn’t know, but then it doesn’t matter. What the humans do is no concern of his unless they’re interested in purchasing, and even then their interest rarely concerns his or his kind.

The humans seem more interested in the sweet pastries filling the glass displays than the bagels sitting in bins at the back. And when they _are_ interested in the bagels, it’s usually in the fancier types like blueberry or cinnamon raisin rather than him. Their baskets receive a steady flow of customers. His remains barely touched.

Hajime’s basket sits next to that of the cinnamon raisin bagels, close enough to hear the vain murmurs and excited whispers floating around its inhabitants. There’s one bagel closer to the front who calls themselves ‘Tooru’ and preens every chance they get. It gets on Hajime’s nerves, but he can’t really, truly find fault in it because Tooru is rather attractive by bagel standards. They’d be even more attractive without all the preening. However, Hajime will never say that aloud. Mostly because he’ll never have the chance.

The employee on duty, a pretty girl with curly brown hair, turns around to grab a blueberry bagel from the top basket, and Hajime can just barely hear the yells of delight from the bagel that the humans will never pick up. He tries to focus on that, and on the upsweep in excited exclamations all around that accompanies a new bagel order, rather than focusing on the cinnamon raisin bagel up front.

Hajime fails in that.

 

* * *

 

  
**12 pm**

 

By some miracle, Hajime ends up near the front of his basket by the time the morning rush has passed. Of course, the lunch rush means his chances of being chosen by any customers are not all that great, but still better than if he’d gotten caught in the back of the basket like some of his compatriots.

The only caveat in his new position is that he’s somehow ended up next to Tooru, with only the crisscrossing metal of their baskets left separating them.

“Hi,” they say to him, somehow managing to be imperious and inviting and infuriating all at once. They give off a sweet and warm scent, courtesy of the cinnamon, and even riddled with raisins they still manage to look absolutely flawless and positively delicious.

Hajime’s never felt so plain as he does now, sitting next to Tooru.

“Hello,” he mumbles back though, because it’s the polite thing to do. But maybe it was a mistake, because the greeting brightens Tooru up and gets them talking in a nonstop flood of words, as if by returning the greeting Hajime had accepted an invitation to be Tooru’s one-man audience. He has a feeling he’s somehow waltzed into a trap. That Tooru will never leave him alone, even if Hajime hated the contact,

(Hajime doesn’t hate it though. Not even the slightest. And he’s pretty sure Tooru knows it.)

 

* * *

 

  
**3 pm**

 

“Hey, Hajime,” Tooru starts for what feels like the billionth time in the past three hours. “Have you ever wished to be different than you are now? Like… like maybe a different type of bagel? Or something?”

“What kind of question is that?”

Tooru bristles and huffs indignantly. “I’m serious. I know we can’t all be cinnamon raisin,” he says in the most haughty voice he can manage. If Hajime had actual eyes, he’d be rolling them.

The tone is a defense mechanism— it’s the one thing Hajime’s learned about the other bagel in the past three hours, if nothing else. If he’s using it now, then he truly is serious about the question. And because they’ve somehow, reluctantly, become friends over the course of the day, Hajime actually considers it.

“I guess I’ve never really thought about it,” he answers as honestly as he can. “I am who I am. Not sure I’d ever want to change.”

“Well, I’ve thought about it.”

They both fall silent after that— the first time since Tooru first said hello. A few customers come and go, all of them selecting from the afternoon menu rather than the pastries in the displays, except for the last. A boy with spiky hair who buys a muffin to split with his tall, glowing boyfriend. They smile so happily to one another that, for a moment, Hajime feels something deep inside him. Some deep longing. A desire he can’t really name.

“I want that,” Tooru confesses for him. “I don’t want to be eaten.”

 

* * *

 

  
**6 pm**

 

The dinner rush arrives and Hajime’s still thinking about what Tooru said. It’s almost certain now that neither of them will be eaten by anyone, so at least that’s one thing Tooru no longer has to worry about. But what about the other thing?

The being human thing.

Hajime can’t stop thinking about it. Can’t put the image of that couple earlier from his mind. He watches the other customers as the crowds ebbs and then flows again, noting the interactions within couples and groups. There’s so much shared between them all. Not just the couples, like the one they saw before, but also between friends. And family. And sometimes friends who consider themselves family?

It’s all very complex, and Hajime doesn’t really understand it, but still… watching it all, even without understanding, Hajime _wants._ More than anything, he wants. Wants to be part of that world. Wants to experience what they experience. Wants to live.

He just _wants._

(He’s less ready to admit that he wants it with Tooru, of all beings. But he does.)

 

* * *

 

  
**9 pm**

 

“I suppose this will be it for us,” Tooru sighs. “No more customers coming through tonight.”

“At least we didn’t get eaten,” Hajime offers, and that seems to appease Tooru for the moment.

They’re right though. The day has come to a close, with the cafe doors locked and room empty of all except the closing employees, who wander and wipe down tables in much the same way as when the cafe opened. It’s quiet. And Hajime finds that a little off-putting after the hubbub of the day, which isn’t something he expected at all.

Of course, he didn’t expect to make it to the end of the day either.

One of the employees begins cleaning out the glass displays, sweeping uneaten pastries and pieces of bread into large, black trash bags to be taken out back with the rest. Something tugs at him while seeing this. Something that reminds him they’re next, and that this is his last chance. If he wants to say anything, he needs to say it now, because the two of them only have three hours left, if that. And Hajime wants to live.

“Tooru,” he says, waiting for Tooru’s attention to swing his way before continuing, “I want that too. What those humans had. I think I’d like that with you.”

If a bagel was able to beam, Hajime’s sure Tooru would be shining like the fluorescent lightbulbs above. It warms Hajime right up. More than any toaster could.

“Me too, Hajime. I think I’d like that too.”

 

* * *

 

  
**12 am**

 

It’s quiet inside the cafe. Quiet, and dark, and abandoned— the business day complete.

Out back sit three bags of trash. They’re full to the brim. One is filled with slowly staling, uneaten bagels.

The clock strikes midnight.

A new day begins.

 


End file.
